


Precious Cargo

by rikujo



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: An advert for thinking with your brain and not your dick, Arthur is a little shit, M/M, Pirates, this was a birthday gift for a friend and she demanded I post it so here we are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-14 16:57:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17512421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rikujo/pseuds/rikujo
Summary: Arthur wakes up on a ship that isn't his and discovers that he won't be allowed to leave any time soon. Trying his luck, he resorts to some rather inventive bargaining.





	Precious Cargo

**Author's Note:**

> This was just for fun so it isn't set in a specific time period, it's just classic pirate SpUk. I wrote it for [Churro](https://amantebravo.tumblr.com/) on her birthday - I was delighted to actually get it to you on time, my dear, but here it is posted publically so you can shout about it as you wanted.

A low, soft creak singing through the air, a gentle rocking that told of waves far below against a bow, and Arthur stirred from slumber. He came to slowly, yawning as he became aware of the irritating thickness in his head. It suggested alcohol, but frankly nothing came to mind in his stupor, and he turned over to press his face into a pillow.

He tumbled straight onto cold, hard planks of wood, smacking his head against the floor.

“ _Bugger_! Ugh, Mary mother of _god_ , what in hell’s name…?” he cursed, barely managing to lift his head. His bed wasn’t meant to end there. In fact on that side of _his_ bed, there ought to have been a cabin _wall_.

A low chuckle rolled through the room.

“Colourful.”

Oh _god_. Arthur knew that voice. He dragged himself round into a sitting position, head throbbing and ears ringing from the blow – and possibly a hangover too, knowing his luck – and prayed he was wrong.

Cracking open an eye, he regarded the annoyingly familiar face across the cabin.

Antonio, positively _lounging_ in the chair at his desk, resplendent smile on his face and his boots kicked up onto the edge of the wood, hadn’t even bothered to look up at him over the parchment in his hand.

Arthur glared at him anyway.

Pushing himself to his feet, Arthur made to stand completely—only clanging filled his ears, a vice grip around his wrist prevented him from moving further, and before he knew it he was flat on his arse again. He turned to stare at the offending arm. The thick metal cuff of a shackle was locked around it, a chain extending between him and Antonio’s bedpost, around which the other end was fastened.

Wonderful, absolutely _bloody_ wonderful. How had he got here?

Now marginally more awake he recognised the space well enough – would have even if Antonio hadn’t been smirking across from him – to know he was on the Spaniard’s personal vessel. That didn’t much help him to determine what he was in for, though, because the emotions he’d previously experienced on board ranged from ‘ecstasy’ to ‘blood-curdling agony’. On one particularly memorable occasion, Antonio had managed to shoot him in the head at exactly the right moment to send him careering overboard.

He was without his coat and the purse at his belt felt significantly lighter than he remembered, but that was all he could glean. The ache in his head still very much present, he gave up on trying to work anything out or place his last memory, and instead scowled at his captor.

“What am I doing here?”

“You lost a battle,” Antonio reported brightly, discarding the parchment on his desk.

Arthur scoffed.

“Not likely. I don’t remember a thing but I _know_ I’m hungover. I’d been in port for…” Actually he wasn’t entirely sure how long, there’d been a lot of rum involved, “…a number of days, last I recall. I wouldn’t have put to sea and started a fight without sobering up.” At least a _little_ anyway.

Antonio still looked too amused. “I never said it took place at sea, but fine, maybe ‘battle’ was a little grand. More like a good bar fight. You go down surprisingly easy with a knock to the back of the head, you know? You can thank Francis for your missing pistol, though, that wasn’t me.”

Arthur covered a curse. He’d been about to start checking himself over for weapons and that was a significant loss. Now he only had the knife in his boot if things went south – presuming Antonio hadn’t already pilfered it, that was.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he pressed, though, still frowning. “Why am I here _precisely_?”

“Because _I_ get the honour of taking you home – and charging a small fee for your return, of course.”

If Arthur had had anything on hand, he’d have thrown it at that godforsaken smile, but he remained silent as Antonio stood up and moved round his desk, casually strolling towards him. Tipping his head back to retain eye contact as Antonio approached, he arched an eyebrow.

“And why, exactly, was it necessary to chain me to your bed?”

If anything, Antonio’s grin widened. “What, I’m not allowed to have fun?”

“Fun?”

Antonio raised an eyebrow right back. “You think seeing you on your ass, completely at my mercy, isn’t fun? Because it is – for me, at least.”

At any other time, Arthur would have called him something incredibly rude, but he wasn’t entirely without self-restraint – no matter what Francis liked to say – and he knew it wouldn’t help.

“I’m guessing I did something to anger you before or during this fight, else I imagine you’d have left me to wake up sprawled on a tavern floor,” he said.

“You and Francis tried to rob me and my men.”

…It did sound vaguely familiar, foggy details of a half-formed scheme floating through his head.

He sighed. “Let me guess, things got ugly and Francis immediately scarpered?”

Antonio chuckled. “At least he’s predictable, right?”

Trying not to let his jaw clench, Arthur nodded.

“Well I’m sure I’ve learned my lesson. You let me up and I’ll be on my way.”

Antonio just snorted.

“Never, you deserve it. Why not repent on your sins while you’re down there?” he suggested, would be cheerful as ever, but the self-satisfied smile on his face was setting Arthur’s teeth on edge. “You’ve got time,” Antonio added tauntingly. Arthur’s eyes narrowed.

“You could have picked any object in this room to cuff me to and you picked the _bed_ ,” he retorted. “Careful who you’re calling a sinner from up there on your teetering high horse.”

“Insulting me isn’t going to get you out, Arturo.”

The ghost of a smile appeared to Arthur’s lips for the first time since he’d awoken. Antonio appeared to be in a good mood and _that_ sounded awfully like an opportunity – it was worth a try. He clicked his tongue.

“What _will_ get me out?” he asked in a low murmur.

Antonio smiled, shaking his head. “You’re a whole lot less mouthy than the last time this happened.”

“Perhaps I’m learning,” Arthur suggested dryly, trying to keep the sarcastic edge from his tone.

“You only do that when it benefits you, and even then it’s stubbornly,” Antonio said, not yet taking the bait, but Arthur did note that he stepped closer still, until his feet were planted on either side of where Arthur’s legs stretched out across the floor.

“What I’m suggesting would benefit us both – you especially,” Arthur bargained, lounging back into the bed-frame behind him. “I’m sure you’d find it worthwhile.”

“Worth more than all the gold I’ve been offered?” Antonio countered. “Because it’s a lot of gold.”

Arthur let his eyes run over the other man in a way he only ever allowed when they were in private, hidden away like this where no-one could see his gaze darken with hunger.

“Worth infinitely more.”

Their eyes held steady, each of them daring the other to look away. Then Antonio bent over him, capturing his lips in a bruising kiss. Strong fingers tangled in Arthur’s shirt, hauling him up, drawing him further into the kiss, and he soon found himself dragged up onto the bed again.

Shifting backwards so Antonio had the space to climb up after him, Arthur got one second to breathe before a hand on his chest pressed him firmly down into the blankets. His gaze caught Antonio’s, both sets of lips twitching before their mouths met once more and Arthur fisted a hand in Antonio’s collar.

It certainly beat fighting his way out.

He wasn’t content to just lie there, though, beginning to sit up once more. He went to roll them only to get stuck half way, greeted with a clang as the reach of the chain rang out. He muttered a curse and Antonio laughed above him—far too smug.

Never to be outdone, Arthur wrapped the chain once around his palm, using the purchase it granted him to lever himself up, pushing back against Antonio and leaning in to steal another kiss.

It ended with both of them on their knees amid the rumpled blankets, gradually melting into the embrace of the other, and the chain fell limp from Arthur’s fingers again as his hands settled on Antonio’s hips instead. Half distracted by Antonio’s fingers delving into his hair, Arthur let his hands slide downwards, fully intending to grab a handful and—and there were _keys_ on Antonio’s belt.

What a fantastic idiot he was at times.

Arthur had to swallow a laugh as he mentally changed plans.

Dipping a hand beneath Antonio’s waistband, he tugged his shirt free at the same moment that he yanked the ring of keys free from his belt. Any jingle of metal was smothered instantly in his palm and he swept the fingers of his free hand up Antonio’s back, fingertips cool against warm skin.

Then Antonio’s tongue slipped into his mouth. For a second he clean forgot about the keys.

One of Antonio’s hands ran down his neck and disappeared beneath the collar of his shirt, leaving him to arch closer to the other man – before mentally chastising himself. Wrenching away from the kiss, he instead pressed open-mouthed kisses to Antonio’s jaw, trailing them ever lower on his throat until he could open his eyes and look over Antonio’s shoulder.

Keeping Antonio’s attention with a gentle bite, he lifted the keys and picked one of the three random, slotting it into the lock on the cuff as quietly as possible.

By some unbelievable stroke of luck, it popped the lock open. Grinning into the other’s neck, Arthur slid his wrist free and lifted his other hand to tangle the fingers in Antonio’s hair.

Enjoying it while it lasted, he tugged gently just to hear the moan that stuttered from Antonio’s throat, and sucked another mark onto his neck. He peppered his kisses back up Antonio’s throat before pushing their mouths together once more, knowing exactly how to _thoroughly_ distract him.

Tracing his fingers sensually down Antonio’s arm, he drew patterns into the other man’s skin for a moment before silently lifting the metal cuff. He closed it around Antonio’s wrist, pressing the two pieces shut.

There was a telltale click as the mechanism slotted into place and finally Antonio’s eyes snapped open. It was too late, too _slow_ , and Arthur smirked against his lips.

“Payback, darling,” he murmured.

He pulled away entirely, hearing the growl beginning in Antonio’s throat, and hopped off the bed. A string of curses followed as he tossed the keys in the air above his hand.

“Arthur, if you fucking _dare—_ ”

“Antonio, insulting me is hardly going to get you out,” he drawled, throwing Antonio’s own words back in his face with a snort.

The exasperated rattling of chains filled his ears as he sauntered over to Antonio’s desk and opened the top draw. From inside, he pinched a handy pistol, a dagger, and a rather interesting set of official looking papers addressed to the Spanish King, all of which he pocketed as Antonio swore at him in mutinous Spanish from the bed. He dropped the keys onto the desk’s surface with a charming smile and then swiped Antonio’s hat off its peg on the wall for good measure.

His eyes ran over the Spaniard, shirt collar spread wide, hair mussed and love bites blooming against his tan. He’d make a pretty picture for whoever found him. Wandering back towards the bed, Arthur dropped one knee onto the edge of the mattress.

Antonio lunged forward, clearly eager to punch him, but Arthur caught the blow with an expectant palm.

The fist held firm, he leant back into the other Captain’s space, indulging himself for a moment. He trailed the thumb of his other hand down Antonio’s neck as those familiar eyes blazed.

“You really should have expected that,” he muttered. Then he dipped his head and pressed a final kiss to the line of Antonio’s jaw. “Another time,” he purred into his ear, “I promise I’ll finish what I’ve started.”

Then he pushed backwards off the bed, leaning away with a quick grin just in time to dodge as Antonio swung for him again. With a last mocking bow, he went to shove open the cabin door.

He winked at the fuming Spaniard as he slipped through.

“Until next time, love.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, kudos and comments are always appreciated! I'm at [anglaisaph](https://anglaisaph.tumblr.com/) on tumblr if you want to pop by ❤


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